


Ravage's Maestro

by gatekat



Series: Dathanna de Gray [3]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anthropomorphic, F/M, Furry, Het, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Xeno, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-18
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: Ravage didn't die. Instead Jazz got his carcass and realized there was still a spark in it. So he made Ravage an offer.Set two years after Consent and Control 1. AU to the main timeline. Dead and unfinished.





	1. Waking Abandoned

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the [Point of View fanverse](https://tf-matrix.livejournal.com/)  
> Set a couple years after _Dathanna de Gray_ ( _Sunny Side Up_ , _Hunting Pleasure_ , _The Naturalists_ and _Frontliners_ ) begins.  
>  **"text"** translated Cybertronian.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Cons abandoned Ravage for dead at Gaza, Jazz realizes his chassis may be broken, but his spark wasn't extinguished and grabs the chance to pick up a new agent of proven skill.

Ravage's systems began to come online slowly, from the most basic to the most complicated, his HUD displaying status information as he reactivated.

Drones: Disabled.

Transponder: Disabled.

Communications: Disabled.

Weapons systems: Disabled.

Motor systems ... online?

That message, simple as it was, was the first thing that Ravage actually recognized. He tried to move, even before his optics were online, not sure where he was but absolutely certain that he couldn't hold still even a moment longer.

He could move his legs, extend claws, move his head about, wiggle his body, but the rotations and flexing involved in getting his feet under him was being prevented by a downward force on his main chassis.

His optics flickered, the baleful orange lights coming on as he began to see what was around him. Once he realized he was trapped, he tried to settle down, still feeling very, very nervous - especially as he realized that he wasn't on board the Nemesis, but he was somewhere sized for Cybertronians.

Autobot HQ. So they'd been the ones to fix him.... He dug back through his memory banks, the last few moments before he'd been forced into medical stasis. Gaza. Catching that _infuriating_ little yellow glitch by surprise, jumping up on him without a hint of warning....

And then the moment of blinding pain as his tail and spine were ripped out of him for the trouble. Laying there on the battlefield, unable to move, trapped in his own body. He shuddered, remembering the absolute helplessness as the fight raged. Laying there, watching, as one of the Autobots, a small, bright blue one, approached him without a trace of fear, knowing he couldn't do a thing. He'd been the one to put him into stasis then.

Ravage's tail - intact again, he couldn't help but notice with a mixture of pleasure and frustration when he realized the weapons on it had been dismantled. No surprise, but it was one more reminder that he was still helpless. He looked around, trying to identify _exactly_ where he was. Medical? An interrogation room? It looked more like medical.

How long had he been out? Without his comm systems, he couldn't even be sure of that much.

He remained silent, sure that somebody would be there to check on him shortly.

A door slid open and the Unmaker given form walked in with a smile on his faceplates and an easy swagger in his walk. If Ravage had discounted any tails of this creature's abilities before, seeing him alive after Megatron had ripped him in two dissuaded him of most of it.

 **"Your vocalizer working?"** the small silver mech, not much larger than Ravage himself, asked cheerfully as he turned a chair around and sprawled in it backwards.

 **"Yes,"** Ravage acknowledged. **"Soundwave will be pleased to know you survived, somehow. I don't know how, but I can say the same for myself."**

It was true, at that. If they'd just wanted to interrogate him, they wouldn't have had to repair him this much. If they were still _alive_ , then the plans that had been in place had likely failed.

Unless Jazz had returned to the Decepticons in the course of being repaired. That was possible, and could explain his being in an Autobot ship.

Somehow though, he doubted it.

Jazz chuckled deeply. **"Nice ta know I was missed by my greatest opponent. If ya haven't worked it out, you're in Autobot Headquarters on Earth. I had ya repaired when Jolt realized your spark hadn't extinguished but your link to Soundwave had broken."**

 **"He appreciates a true challenge,"** Ravage said, his tone more-or-less neutral. **"I presume that once I start looking, I'll find no obvious signs of access to my systems, but we'll both know that's because you're not that messy, even with a mostly dead captive. Why did you have me repaired?"**

A small smile played across Jazz's features at the complement from one in his field and he relaxed further against the back of the chair in front of him. **"I know you are less than loyal to the Decepticon cause, kept there largely by your bond to Soundwave. With that broken, I have a proposal for you. Go Neutral, work with one of my dedicated scouts, and you won't be hungry for energon, spark energy, or hunted by my team."**

 **"Scout?"** Ravage asked, his surprise clear. **"I would have expected you to attempt to turn me around for more traditional Intel work. What happens if I refuse?"** He asked, giving no particular impression that he was considering it - just analyzing options. **"I suffer an unfortunate repair complication, and get slagged down for parts? Or do you even have to go to that much trouble, to make me disappear?"**

If it had been Soundwave, and one of Blaster's subordinate bots, he would have known the answer. Nobody would have known he was there to be killed. But at the same time, he was also sure that the repairs he'd required would have taken more skill than Jazz alone would have. Which meant that at least one other mech had to know he was there, and probably one who would object to getting rid of him.

Jazz chuckled. **"Don't have to go to nearly that much trouble. You're officially a prisoner, one we know should have pretty interesting intel in your banks. I may be a little rusty from the standard I held when I worked for Megatron, but I'm still up to taking your code apart. Short form is I'll just wipe you clean and upload a personality more agreeable to working for me. I'm not making this offer so much as Prime. He's still not fond of my taste for reformatting mechs."**

So he hadn't been hacked yet. At least not officially. That was something of a surprise, actually. No doubt another preference of Prime's.

 **"Will my remaining systems be reactivated before I am back in the field, or will I be operating at reduced capacity until I've proven I won't kill my watchdog and leave?"** He asked simply, sure that Jazz noticed the lack of question about whether or not he was going to agree. It wasn't a question at this point - if _he_ was going to survive, he was going to have to do it on these terms, for now. The situation might change later, but that would have to be done carefully.

 **"You'll be fully operational before I send you into the field,"** Jazz said firmly. **"Are you familiar with Dáin'Domh? He'll be your partner. Between him, a few upgrades and mods, I'm not that concerned you'll kill him and run."**

 **"Eight legs, two arms, another beast-frame, and modified for long-range missions without an energon supply?"** Ravage confirmed. **"I'm familiar with him. I was considered for similar modifications, but the bond with Soundwave made it unnecessary. I will need to reconsider that, now that I am on my own, if you are considering long-range scouting. If I am to remain on this world, I have the standard options. Even suitable for Autobot sensibilities,"** he observed, actually managing to sound mildly amused by the fact.

 **"For now you'll be on Earth,"** Jazz chuckled. **"Dáin'Domh has a socket, a female Itarian. Until you, or I, find an organic suited to your preferences, they've agreed you may share with her. Just behave, because Tagira would find no small amusement in knocking you on your tail and she can do it,"** he snickered mostly to himself. **"She holds her own on his missions by the reports he's filed."**

Ravage took a moment to consider his own files on them both; it wasn't an exaggeration, based on the reports he had. More than one Scout had been driven off a claim by her in the past, it seemed, with or without her owner.

 **"I won't underestimate her,"** he said simply. **"Can I be released now? At least long enough to move around a bit. I've held still long enough in the last few ... you still haven't said how long since I was captured,"** he pointed out. **"I don't trust my internal chronometer, given the medical stasis, and can't check against anybody else at the moment."**

 **"Oh, sure."** Jazz reached over to the bed controls and unlatched the three straps holding Ravage down. **"Despite my best efforts, you've been down for half a metacycle, a bit longer than it took me to get back."**

The beast-mech pushed up and jumped down off the table, shaking his body out to test everything that _was_ still working, resetting his timing properly ... it wasn't as long as he'd have expected, given the amount of damage involved, given that Soundwave wasn't the one repairing him. Yet it was clear that Jazz was displeased that it had taken that long.

 **"Everything that should be working operational?"** Jazz asked as he watched the quadruped mech stretch and walk about, inspecting the isolation medical suite.

 **"Better than anticipated,"** Ravage admitted after a few moments, running another low-level diagnostic. **"Soundwave's inhibition protocols have been removed ... I also believe that you've removed that annoying little glitch I was having with my drone control matrix. They may be disabled, but it's operating at full efficiency again. Your handiwork, I've always suspected?"** He asked for confirmation.

 **"Yap,"** Jazz all but chirped with a grin. **"Cleaned out his protocols and the viruses I added over the vorns. Added in a few security protocols, as did Ratchet. Look up 'socket' under your protocol listing and you see his additions and far too detailed notes on what they are, what they do and how to use them and avoid them. It's worth reading at least once. Prime ordered some doozies added when he outlawed the generators. Vicious stuff, even by my standards."**

 **"And yet, undoubtedly very effective,"** Ravage observed as he considered what was there. **"The upshot of it is, I have to worry about asking first, and making sure they say yes when they're not scared enough to do it regardless of whether they want to or not. It will be ... interesting, finding somebody who isn't afraid of the sheer quantity of spikes,"** he observed irritably, his tailtip lashing.

 **"We are dealing with a species that can be raised to find anything normal,"** Jazz chuckled. **"It might take me a vorn, but I'm already setting up the breeding and training programs to produce humans for the less pro-organic Autobots."**

 **"Like the two lunatics who enjoy getting their claws in the Seekers so much,"** Ravage guessed easily. **"How have you been, since your defection? It may give me an idea of what I can look 'forward' to."**

 **"Yes, like the Terror Twins,"** Jazz laughed. **"Life's pretty good, overall. Prime still drives me crazy with the limitations, but Prowl's not leaving so I'm still putting up with the bucket of bolts and bad programming. Unless you're aiming for high rank, you won't have to deal with either of them much. If you are, well, I'm proof Prime has no survival instincts when it comes to his officers, since I made SIC of the entire bloody army. Prove your loyalty to him and he'll even make the walking cannon obey orders,"** he snickered with a real hint of gleeful malice. **"As disgusting as some of the rules are, if you are willing to play their game, you can make pretty much anything of your life as you want. For now, I put you in scouting to give ya time to adjust to all the regs, pick what you'll deal with, what you'll refuse and get an idea of what you want before facing the main population. On missions, I can shield ya from a lot. On base, not so much."**

 **"I am more than willing to shield myself, here,"** Ravage said, hopping back up onto the table now that he was satisfied he could get around largely at will. Being on some sort of perch felt at least slightly more comfortable, even such a small one. **"I can always cloak myself to get away, if things get particularly rough, and I'm more sensible than to look for a fight. Particularly with that... with Bumblebee,"** he said distastefully, curling his tail up around his hindquarters. **"Did you teach him how to fight like that?"**

Jazz chuckled. **"I gave him a few lessons, but Ironhide, the walking cannon, did most of his combat training."**

 **"Impressive work, whoever taught him the tricks. I don't usually get caught after pouncing on a target. Will I have to meet with the Prime, before everything we've discussed can be finalized?"** He asked, switching to a more useful subject.

 **"Not unless you want to,"** Jazz told him. **"Get the kinks out in the next couple joor. You'll be put under against for the rest of the repairs,"** he added as he stood.

 **"As long as I know about it beforehand, I'll behave,"** Ravage promised, activating his cloak almost out of habit once Jazz was gone, before he started prowling around the medbay to get used to moving again, and see what was there of particular interest.


	2. Hunting a Handler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravage is turned loose to find, or be found by, his new handler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Dáin'Domh:** Death Sun (Icelandic/Irish). 8-legged, 2-armed beast-mech of a vaguely canine design. In service to Jazz, built for him primarily as a new-world scout. Capable of being full sustained by self-processed energon (from solar, geothermal, etc), though it's not a happy existence. Heavily armored, heavily sensor-rich, and quite experienced in staying alive.
> 
> **Tagira:** Dáin'Domh's claimed socket. A female Itarian (A wolf-cat mix with some avian characteristics and feathers. Marsupial). Has been with Dáin'Domh for sixteen of her 70 vorn life expectancy. dark brown with muted green, tan and blue. 8ft tall.
> 
> [Reedman](http://tfwiki.net/wiki/Image:ReedmanConcept.jpg)

**"How much of a head-start on me does he have?"** Ravage asked Jazz as they and Prowl approached the thicker jungles on the eastern side of Diego Garcia. A few more hours of repairs, and he was ready to get out of the base - thankfully. It was also time to test his skills, and those of his new handler.

**"Six hours,"** Jazz told him. **"They arrived on Earth two months ago."**

He felt almost at home here ... large for the terrain he was in, yes, but jungles were what he was built for. He'd have to be careful about where he perched, but he'd have every other advantage he was made to have. Heavy cover, places his drones could reach, places he could hide and wait for intel before acting, his cloak would work perfectly ... it was much better than working around deserts. **"And ground rules are not to do any serious damage, to him or his socket, but no-holds-barred beyond that?"** He confirmed.

**"Yap,"** Jazz nodded, unconsciously leaning into the large, silent, black, white and red mech that walked up behind him nearly as silently as Ravage could. **"They're expecting it to be over when someone -- any of you three -- is pinned, but it can go to immobilization if you choose to. I just don't want anybody back in medbay before your first mission. There are a couple mechs and several human teams out here that are not involved. Detection by any of them is to be avoided as well. They know not to shoot you, but I want to know you're still that good."**

**"If they spot me, I'm putting _myself_ in for heavy diagnostics,"** Ravage growled lowly, causing Jazz to snicker. **"I've been in more exposed places than this without being seen."** He ran a low-level scan, opening up his sensors just to pick up the basic overview of what was in the area.

Hound, Mirage and a socketed human were the closest at several miles behind them. A group of four humans, only one with a socket, were somewhat scattered in the area. Beachcomber was not far off shore from them. There was another, larger group of socketed humans, mechs and a few alien socketed organics at the tip of this side of the horseshoe island, but the immediate area was apparently clear.

As he activated his cloak and took off, he heard the pair left behind him talking and paused for a moment.

**"You are crazy to do this,"** Prowl spoke softly to the sound of chassis' pressing closer together.

**"Ah think that was 'stablished when ah broke ya outa Straxis,"** Jazz snickered before silencing Prowl with a passionate kiss.

Ravage shook his head slightly, launching out above the jungle.

Jazz hadn't changed _that_ much, it seemed. Probably less prone to randomly torturing his berthmates, but still insatiable.

Leaving the two bonded mechs behind, he fired his jets briefly to slow his fall, coming down in a small clearing with the gentlest of touches before leaping up into one of the trees, exploring for a safe perch some distance from his landing point. It was slower going than he liked, but he didn't want to crack any branches and possibly attract any more attention than necessary.

Once he was relatively sure he was safe, he settled down. His drones dropped from his body, quickly beginning to spread out in all directions, giving him a more detailed map than any sensor suite possibly could. He settled in for the wait, directing the tiny, ball-bearing sized robots to explore, mapping and searching for any trace of his targets.

The first response of something interesting came near dusk, one of the tiny drones reporting a large non-human organic in the trees. A second later came the flash-message that it had been discovered and the connection went dead.

Growling lowly, he ordered the others to lay low and maintain surveillance as he moved off to follow the one that had just gone down. They knew he was there, but that wasn't a serious problem - they already knew that. He knew where at least one of them was though, or was at least closer to knowing it.

Sticking to the trees where he could, he was careful to check his surroundings as he moved. He didn't want to come across the traps that Tagira's profile indicated she was so good with.

What really concerned him was the knowledge that where she was, her owner wouldn't be far. He'd seen enough reports to know that a favored tactic was to disorient with traps while the Itarian made herself known and did light damage, only to lead the enraged mech into a deadly trap in the form of her owner. Dáin'Domh hadn't been designated Death Sun without reason. A scout, yes, but every bit as deadly as any frontliner.

He moved more carefully as he drew closer to the last known location of his drone. A sensor suite more advanced than any other Decepticon found two traps, a net to step on and a pit to step into. Very well concealed, and unlikely the only ones.

Time to see just how careful - and confident - they were. Summoning his drones, he waited carefully while enough of them gathered nearby to form the Reedman, then sent them to trigger the pit trap, hoping they would act before checking that they'd actually caught their quarry.

He only just caught a momentary flash of dark brown with muted green, tan and blue in the trees before it was gone. It was Tagira without a doubt. Nothing native to the planet bore those colors. Yet nothing larger than a large bird was on his sensor grid.

At this range, he _should_ have been able to pick her up. But then, she might have had some sort of cloak available too....

Turning his own cloak on at full power, he crept forward cautiously, hoping to catch her while she disabled Reedman down below. If he could take her out of the fight, it would be much more of an even match, even if he lost his drones until they could be reactivated.

But she didn't break cover. He got another glimpse of her in the trees as she circled him and the trap, keeping the circle wide and her movements fast.

A third flash of her distinctive, blending fur pattern in a different location.

His sensors told him nothing; only the movement of air near his tail gave him warning that something was coming in behind him fast and high.

He felt a light spark and sting, his tail going limp as he spun around, springing for her last location, hoping he'd calculated the jump correctly for his newly shifted balance. He got a good enough look as he twisted to confirm it was definitely an Itarian and that she knew how to hunt his kind well enough to incorporate the lunge to put her completely out of his reach in her initial trajectory.

She did get close enough for him to register that she _was_ the animal he'd detected before. Her shielding wasn't to hide her, but to make her appear as something else, something much smaller. He had to admit - it was clever. It was a cloak that would keep any _little_ mistakes from giving her away, while a void where something obviously was would draw attention.

Back in the trees she let a sharp staccato sequence in four pitches followed by a longer howl that marked her path of departure.

He was sure she'd just called Dáin'Domh, and he activated his own cloak as he took off after her, chasing her down as well as he could. He wasn't about to let this end without getting at least _one_ mark in his favor, besides spotting her early on.

A flicker of a sensor blip near him created a reflexive strike in that direction, and half to his surprise his paw connected with something, sending it flying into a tree.

Tagira relaxed her body to an unnatural extent the instant she realized there was no avoiding the strike, but even so she bounced off the tree with a grunt as the air was forced from her lungs.

**"Slag it!"** He snarled, moving over to check on her. He hadn't _planned_ on hitting her that hard, and he didn't _want_ to find out what would happen if her owner _or_ Jazz thought otherwise.

Especially not Jazz.

Scanners said she was in acceptable condition. Mildly stunned, but nothing was broken or badly damaged.

Realizing it, he sent a command to his drones to move in and bind her, hoping they could do the job as he backed away and activated his cloak, waiting for Dáin'Domh to respond. This might have ended out working out for the best after all - if he came to check on his socket, it would give Ravage just the opportunity he required.

While Reedman worked its way out of the pit to converge with the others on their location, Tagira struggled to her feet and reached out through her socket-bond to assure Dáin'Domh that she was fine. She was more than a little surprised that she hadn't been pinned and taken out of the game, but to her, that just meant she was bait and Ravage was fully cloaked nearby.

With her mech on the way, she leaped into the trees again, careful of her balance until she was sure of it again, and began the systematic search for her target.

He moved carefully, trying to avoid her search, and her mech once he was coming closer. He moved as little as possible, to give them as little noise to detect him as he could... he needed for them to let their guard down slightly, so he could get an ambush set up of his own.

If it wasn't going to happen, he'd have to go off and set up his own traps, and that was _not_ his strong suit.

Tagira was keeping her distance now, more respectful of his reflexes when he wasn't distracted, but they never left each other's senses. He realized after a moment that she was trying to get him back to where the traps were.

Instead, he stilled. If she was trying to spring a trap on him, given the timing, then Dáin'Domh was almost certainly nearby to take advantage of the distraction. He focused on his sensors, deciding to risk an active scan, rather than just a passive one when they didn't turn anything up - he was especially aware of any sign of a small metallic object that _wasn't_ part of him.

There.

Pits, his reports didn't indicate the other scout was subterranean capable. There was no doubt that the six foot long metallic snake not twenty paces behind him and half a pace down was Dáin'Domh.

He carefully redirected his leg-guns, angling them so they'd be _above_ the 'snake.' He modified his power settings, so that if his aim was off he wouldn't penetrate Cybertronian armor. Then he dropped his cloak, firing his weapons to clear the dirt above Dáin'Domh, and hopefully keep him pinned down long enough to let him turn and get the drop on _him_ instead.

A tiny object tripped his close-range sensors, and while he leapt out of the way, the sharp object still penetrated his forearm armor just below the joint. It melted in rather than forced its way in, sending jolts of pain across his neural network.

A snarl of pain ended his assault on Dáin'Domh, but he tried to ignore it, turning to move and deal with the greater threat. He knew he was going to lose, at this point, but he'd be slagged if he was going to make it easy for them.

Now that he knew what to look for, she wasn't nearly as hard to track, but pits that organic was fast and knew exactly what she was doing in the game to avoid and distract him. Well enough that he didn't realize until too late that the ground was giving way when his paws landed, sending him off-balance and into Dáin'Domh's many-limbed embrace.

He weighed his options for a handful of processor cycles - he could surrender, or he could fight back. He decided to fight back, briefly, thrashing with his body at full, bristling sharpness, his spines and blades extended as he tried to get loose.

Statistics only told one so much. Being told your target was twice your size was one thing. He'd taken down mechs larger than that. Just not another beast frame, never mind one with this many limbs.

Sensors warned him that the organic was closing on the fight, but she was a secondary concern to the eight insect legs and two strong arms doing an annoyingly effective job of keeping him stuck on his back and his spines away from Dáin'Domh.

**"I yield,"** he decided, stilling before things could get any more complicated, or his frame be damaged in the struggle. He didn't mind breaking a spine in a real fight, but in something like this, it wasn't worth it. **"There's no need for another of those bolts,"** he added quickly.

**"Good to hear that,"** a light, trilling voice came from above him as Dáin'Domh let him up.

"A-g-r-ee-d," Tagira spoke in a respectable imitation of Autobot, though like all organics she was still painfully slow to listen too. **"We-l-co-me R-a-v-age."** She greeted him with his actual, proper designation. While slow and limited by her own frame, was as flawless and fast as it would ever be.

**"She can speak Autobot, limited formal High Cybertronian, a some Decepticon as well as understand all three very well for an organic,"** Dáin'Domh added with obvious pride in his pet.

**"Very impressive,"** Ravage agreed, standing and shaking himself out, calling the drones back to himself. **"Do you have a translation package for her native language? I'm willing to meet her half-way."**

**"Of course,"** Dáin'Domh offered the datapack via short-range transmission, then waited for Ravage to download and install it before switching. "Do you have an organic translation you prefer her to use, given she is not physically capable of pronouncing your designation perfectly?"

The panther-mech grinned almost wickedly as he ran through his new vocabulary, his drones taking back their designated bays and locations.

"No reason to change it now," he said, his voice taking on a faintly Slavic accent after brief consultation of his cultural and historical data files. "Most of the cultures I've met have had the same basic idea; Ravage, in this language. I could look at some of the other local languages, but it seems likely to complicate things."

"Ravage, then, if I can't manage **R-a-v-age,"** Tagira grinned right back at him. "You're a good hunt."

"She has hunting on the brain," Dáin'Domh snickered.

"It's not easy to blame her, given the company," Ravage observed. "She's a good hunting partner, as well - the trick you both have to reduce your sensor signals is an interesting one."

"A gift from **Drift** when we pulled him out of trouble once," Dáin'Domh said, stretching out a centipede-like chassis. "It is very useful, both in hunting and as the hunted."

"Do you have an organic?" Tagira asked politely.

"Not since my last long-term assignment," Ravage said with a shake of his head, stretching out and settling down himself to relax and get to _know_ the two of them now. "Scouting assignment, that is. Those have always been temporary. My needs have generally been met through Soundwave and the generators, as long as I was in range."

"Autobot-style charging, or something else?" Tagira asked as she settled on Dáin'Domh's back just behind his first set of legs.

"Both, depending on where I was," Ravage said easily. "On a long-term assignment, I'd usually find a local organic or two, as I imagine you have in the past," he said, nodding towards Dáin'Domh. "On occasion, I've even set up small 'cults' of them, when it was going to be an extremely long-term exploration mission. When I was on Cybertron, I would generally use the generators," he said without a trace of shame about it. "Not as enjoyable, but efficient, unless somebody 'forgot' to shield the spark-bond. Then it was generally a good time to cycle into recharge _fast_ ," he admitted with an irritable lash of his tail that said there had probably been a time or two when he hadn't been fast enough for his own tastes.

Dáin'Domh's head snapped up, his jaw-pincers clicking in shock as a shudder passed down his frame and optics going fully dilated. "Then you have first-hand experience of what happens with Autobot sharing protocols installed and an unwilling socket."

"He warned me, yes," Ravage agreed. "Though there was _usually_ some shielding involved. I was one that Soundwave could spare less often than the others."

" **J-a-zz** told you I'm willing, yes?" Tagira asked.

"He did," Ravage agreed. "I just thought I should wait for an offer; I'm not used to acquiring the same... _type_ of consent," he granted. "Is it an offer, and one you're comfortable with?" He asked, looking between them both.

"Yes," she answered first. "My people have always taken many lovers. The full pack was together this way. While you are with us, you are pack."

**"It is."** Dáin'Domh added, briefly switching to the more-precise Cybertronian.

"When was the last time you fed your spark?" Tagira asked with a nearly sub-vocal rumble of eagerness.

"Since well before I was dispatched to Earth... roughly two metacycles," he admitted. "A good charge then; when I use a generator, I prefer to do so infrequently, and for a substantial amount. What is your preferred method?" He asked her, letting a feeding cable snake out. Even _that_ was visibly tipped with short spines, not near the connection point, but a few inches back from it - the sort of thing that, if he and an organic were interrupted, could be converted to a weapon on short notice.

"Do you have an adaptive spike/valve installed?" she rumbled as she slid from Dáin'Domh's back to approach her new packmate with sexual hunger radiating off her.

"I've rarely met a beast-form who didn't," he chuckled, relaxing his spines and sliding back his interface plate, shifting to flatten out his armor along the bottom. "I prefer to be in control when my spike gets a workout," he warned her.

"Good," she rumbled, stripping off light body armor and clothing quickly before plugging his connection into her socket. She dropped to her knees and elbows, her tail arched over her back in a blatant, hungry invitation to him even if he hadn't been able to feel her _want_ singing to his spark along the connection.

He growled lowly, the primal part of his spark singing out at the blatant offer as he shifted to mount her, his spike pressurizing as he experimented with a few light pulses of pleasure in time with his light thrusts along her body.

~Familiar with a feline spike?~ He asked her silently, sending along the image of his own, lightly barbed in imitation of his organic counterparts, sized to what he _thought_ was suitable for her, from his files.

He felt her body shudder under him. It could have been in fear or excitement, but her pheromones and even more her mind told him clearly without words that she wanted him, wanted the attention so badly, and his spike didn't bother her in the least.

~Fill me,~ she half-demanded, half-begged, her mind flooding his with memories of how good it felt, how satisfying it was compared to every other kind of pleasure she knew. ~Want to feel you,~ she added, a swirl of cultural desire and welcoming ritual behind it.

He adjusted his spike, sliding forward, savoring her pleasure and the traces of welcome pain that came along with it as his spike entered her, raking her body lightly as he gave her a few brief moments to adjust, and then began to thrust, his spark hungrier than most Cybertronians had _let_ themselves get since arriving on Earth, for any sort of feeding.

Under him Tagira growled, whined, howled and moaned, thrusting back against his strokes to take him in deeper and squeezing her body around him as he pulled out. The pricks of pain were lighter than Ravage expected, but it was good. Oh, so very good. So were the approving clicks Dáin'Domh gave in response to his pet's sounds and whatever other signals he picked up.

Desire, pleasure, want, everything his best organics had offered plus the fire of a spirit that even in willing submission was strong and self-controlled.

All the nuances of his favorite organics in the past, collected in one, pretty much. As he growled lowly and thrust faster, he shared some of his memories with her, feeding her images of some of the others and what they'd done together, the mixes of pain and pleasure he'd shown them. His spark drank up all she had to offer as he took her, offering pulses of pleasure in exchange as well, pleasuring the parts of her mind his spike couldn't.

Her clawed fingers and toes dug into the earth under them, her body trembling as she drank in everything he offered, then offered her own memories in exchange, insights into her relationship with Dáin'Domh from her perspective.

~So close,~ she moaned deeply, tightening her body around his spike tightly enough that her juices oozed out.

~Any time you want,~ he told her, debating inwardly if he _should_ go ahead himself. He let the fact that Dáin'Domh was there as well decide for him - if anything happened, he was sure he'd have the appropriate attention quickly here. He shielded the bond with Tagira through his cable, his thrusts speeding up as he worked on trying to get _himself_ over an edge that he rarely indulged in anywhere he wasn't certain of.

The large organic under him arched against his belly, panting and whining as her need escalated. She shifted her hips, tilting them upwards a bit more so his next thrust rubbed her just the right way to send the first tendrils of uncontrollable ecstasy into her wombs, up her spine and across the rest of her body in a spiral she welcomed for herself and for the life it gave the mech pleasuring her.

His spark surged in response to her climax, the pleasure flowing through him pushing _him_ through his own overload, his body twitching as power arced through his systems, transfluid spurting from his spike into her, his legs locking into place to keep him from collapsing on top of her.

The pleasure was incredible, but he couldn't shake that niggling alarm in the back of his head that said it was risky, at least not until it finally shorted out as well.

His optics cycled back up for the second time that day, and he unlocked his joints once he could trust them, looking down beneath himself to check on Tagira.

~Did you... enjoy your-self?~ He asked her, his speech ability still clearly re-establishing itself.

~Very much,~ she rumbled, her body still happily milking his spike as she lifted her head and nuzzled him. ~Those who worshiped you showed you well.~

~Yes, they did,~ he agreed easily, slowly depressurizing his spike. ~They had several suggested... 'refinements' from the mating habits of the Guarandi jaguars,~ he said, backing up and leaning down, starting to groom her with his glossa. ~Though they appreciated _some_ of them,~ he added with an amused tone.

~Foolish not to,~ she shivered, her body relaxing and coming down from her orgasm even as her pleasure of being groomed flowed freely to Ravage. ~It's good to have someone with a spike in the pack again. I've missed mating.~

~Your ow-Dáin'Domh doesn't have one?~ He asked, a little surprised, working over her entire body carefully.

~Not everyone can take the programming and modifications,~ she shrugged mentally. Even fully aware it could be a lie for many reasons, it didn't concern her. She shifted, turning around so her muzzle was near his interface array and began to lick him clean in turn, a little bit of playfulness in her mind. ~He has other ways to make me feel good.~

~I'm sure he does, and meant no offense,~ he reassured her, relaxing to enjoy the attention. ~While I'm a part of this pack, I'll see about keeping you satisfied,~ he added with a light brush of pleasure through her socket.

Tagira rumbled eagerly and nuzzled his interface array. ~Which will see that your spark is very well fed and stronger than ever before.~

~I've got no issues with that,~ he chuckled lightly. ~But I should warn you, I'm not really used to going to full overload in the field. I've not no problems with satisfying you,~ he added as she nuzzled his spike, the length starting to repressurize slowly. ~But don't worry about trying to return the favor unless you particularly want to.~

~I'll keep it in mind. It feels too vulnerable to let loose like that?~ she checked her assessment of him as she slowly drew his spike into her mouth, lavishing it with her thick, spongy tongue.

~Exactly,~ he agreed, rumbling lowly inside his chassis as he let the pleasure start to build again. ~I've had incidents in the past, though I'm sure the two of you would take care of me. Speaking of the _two_ of you, would he like to join in?~ He asked, glancing over at the eight-legged mech who seemed content to watch at the moment.

~He fed two days ago,~ she included a sense that it was resent and it wouldn't happen again for some time; many more days at least. ~He will not let anything sneak up on us. There is nothing to sneak up on us on this island. Not with so many mechs here.~

~More have arrived since the battle?~ He asked her, starting to thrust lightly into her mouth. ~How many _are_ here?~

~Thirty-something here, forty or so at Metroplex in Asia, another fifteen scattered about, and Ultra Magnus is due soon with Fortress Maximus and another fifty or so mechs.~ she answered as she arched into the thrusting body, sucking and licking, grazing her sharp teeth lightly over the barbs and sensor nodes. ~Oh, and there's a group on the Moon, Mars and Venus doing terraforming stuff.~

~And... mmm... the war's still going on why, exactly?~ He asked, the pleasure distracting him slightly.

He knew that Prime was entirely too maudlin about dealing with acceptable casualties, but with nearly a four-to-one advantage over the Decepticons... and that was assuming that _he'd_ been the only casualty since Gaza.

~Not much fighting, not since the Zerstörerz arrived,~ she answered, sliding further forward to take his spike into her throat. ~Lots of Cons still out in the universe, but this system is solidly ours.~

~I don't doubt it,~ he rumbled deeply. ~We'll need to talk more about what's changed after you're finished,~ he told her. ~How do you feel about taking a cable?~ He asked her, snaking one out to slide against her sex.

~Yes!~ her agreement was barely a word, more an intense sense of _want_. ~So many possibilities,~ her mind rumbled with flickers of cables, Reedman and less understandable scenarios that were all turning her on, all involved penetration and showed just how creative her sense of pleasure and desire ran.

~Any limits on where you're penetrated?~ He asked her, letting his drones slip free from his body, beginning to form into Reedman behind her.

~Just don't do much damage,~ she resounded with a very solid definition of what that meant.

~I'm not _that_ rough unless it's asked for, in these conditions,~ her reassured her with a chuckle, linking his senses directly into Reedman's as he controlled the mantoid to grow a spike of his own, sitting up to let the drone mount her from behind, thrusting eagerly into her sex as a tapered cable slipped up into her ass, both of them starting to piston in and out of her, in a smooth counter rhythm, his own pleasure at the ample attention streaming through to her through the cable still attached to her socket.

Tagira moaned and shuddered around his spike at the attention, approval flowing back to Ravage with the strength of her pleasure as she fed his spark like it hadn't been fed in ages. Her body worked all three points of contact eagerly, delighting in the pleasure beyond his hungry spark being fed that she caused.

Another overload was quickly building, with the multiple sensations, and the flooding of his spark with power. This time, he didn't bother to fight it off, only taking the time to position himself so he couldn't hurt her before letting the cascade pass through his systems.


	3. Strengthening Pack Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravage, Dáin'Domh and Tagira spend some down time before their first joint mission just getting to know each other.

"Mmm ... I'd suggest I try cleaning you off again, but I don't think either of us will get any rest if I do," Ravage said to Tagira, disengaging his connection after several hours of sating both their hungers. "Do you ever wind down?"

"When I pass out," she grinned up at him, content to laze about in the relative safety of an Autobot control island with such a large population. "Can you fuel yourself with organic material?"

"Not my favored approach, but I can," he nodded. "Do you prefer to hunt on your own, or with a packmate? And just what _is_ there to hunt on this island?" He added.

"Hunting is forbidden on the island itself, and in the waters within twenty lengths of the shoreline," Dáin'Domh responded with a click of annoyance. "Orders of the Prime. He wishes the native life preserved."

"I guess I'm swimming for dinner than," Tagira stretched languidly. "Anything he'll freak if I drag in?"

"Several socket-quality species," Dáin'Domh clicked and transmitted the details to her.

"Got it," she nodded and flicked her feathered crest up before shaking her fur out to fluff it. She looked at Ravage as she stood and stretched out. "I like hunting in a pack, but can you swim that well? It's not like I _need_ to catch dinner, we have plenty of rations, I just like to when I can."

"Swimming and I do _not_ get along," Ravage said with something like a shudder. "I'll send Reedman out for surveillance, in case there is any difficulty. He will alert you if any trouble approaches." He gave the commands, and quickly drew up the relevant programs, for his drone, tasking him to keep an eye on Tagira.

"Thanks," she gave him a rumbling grin, only quirking up the corners of her mouth so she didn't display her natural weaponry and casually walked towards the beach, Reedman trotting along after her.

 **"I am pleased she likes you,"** Dáin'Domh said when he was sure his socket was out of range. **"It will be very nice to have another beast-frame to partner with."**

 **"How you manage to keep up with her without one, I'm not entirely sure,"** Ravage chuckled lowly, finding a relatively sunny spot and stretching out in it to relax and soak up the warmth. **"How long has it been?"** He asked, his tail flicking back and forth lazily.

 **"She had a mate of her own kind, also my socket, until four metacycles ago,"** Dáin'Domh stretched out as well and settled his armor plates in a sunny spot nearby. **"I put in a request for leave to their homeworld, but it hasn't been approved yet."**

 **"Hopefully they will be able to spare you soon. Are you looking forward to it, or is it just part of taking care of her?"** He asked easily.

**"For her, mostly. It keeps her content to have an actual lover, and the energy is far superior. She likes me and our missions well enough, but even when they agreed to be claimed there was no question that it was for the benefits it offered. To be fair, it suits my preferences as well. I need my sockets to do their duty, not worry about me."**

**"Never an issue that Soundwave had with us, though for rather different reasons,"** Ravage mused. **"Was it much the same reason for you to bond with her? A ready socket for your missions?"**

 **"Yes. Our hunting methods are compatible, we get along well enough, and when they are claimed they last so much longer and the energy is superior,"** Dáin'Domh nodded. **"It is not very Autobot-like, at least by Prime's preferences, but as long as I do not abuse my sockets there is nothing to punish me for."**

 **"He'd be positively thrilled with you if he knew about my usual methods,"** Ravage purred lowly, causing Dáin'Domh to click in amusement. **"I rarely abused them, but from what I've picked up from the protocols, I stretch the definitions he'd be comfortable with far more than you ever would be likely to."**

 **"I was trained how to skirt the rules by the best, and you will be too over the next few vorns,"** Dáin'Domh clicked in amusement. **"From the records I have on you, we have similar default ideas on how to acquire 'willing' sockets when no one is looking. Jazz is a very good master to have that way. He does go to some effort to protect his favored agents from Prime's stranger ideas."**

 **"Intel so often does,"** Ravage chuckled. **"And it's good to hear. If we find ourselves on new-world exploration, it might be interesting to introduce new wrinkles to the old routine. I'll just have to remember that I'm not grooming a population for the Decepticons anymore. Entirely different requirements."**

 **"What grooming needs to be done for the Decepticons?"** Dáin'Domh clicked curiously and lifted his head to look at Ravage more closely. **"But yes, it is fun to prep a population for the big mech's arrival."**

 **"It is preferable to prepare them for the generators; a culture that values endurance and pain-resistance, one that accepts the dictates of the new masters without question. Minimize the difficulty in harvesting individuals, and maximize the time before they end up attempting to revolt,"** he explained casually. **"My crowning achievement, at least in my view, was when I trained a warrior culture to harvest their neighbors for us. It was quite some time before the decision was made to harvest en masse, it was more efficient to just let them do the work for us."** He purred at the memory, his disappointment that Megatron had decided to end the little experiment still lingering.

 **"Of course, with the Autobots, it would be preferable to establish a messianic faith,"** he mused idly. **"Find or manufacture some local threat that can be controlled through an Autobot presence, establish a myth cycle that the great metal gods will come and rescue them... if they treat their emissaries properly, of course,"** he chuckled. **"Assuming, of course, that Prime wouldn't have me deboned again for taking advantage of the mission,"** he grumbled, checking through what he had on the acceptable means to complete a mission.

Dáin'Domh made a disgruntled huff from vents along his entire body. **"It would be so much easier if we wouldn't be dismantled by a furious Prime for that. If it's something that we do just for our own sockets while we're in the middle of nowhere, we can get away with it, but the first time of one them reacts to Prime or one of his more 'equal-rights' mechs --- Ratchet especially -- and learns who taught them the idea, we'd better have a Primus-quality good explanation for it 'accidentally' happened,"** he didn't even try to hide how frustrated it made him. **"He's _Prime_. Why he thinks it's fine for _us_ to treat him as a living god but these primitive short-lived organics shouldn't is beyond me."**

 **"Who knows what the Prime thinks?"** Ravage's shoulders shifted in something like a shrug before he stretched out on his perch languidly. **"I _can_ be more subtle,"** he added with a mental smirk, his tail curling around his haunches with smug self-satisfaction. **"I've just never had the _excuse_ to do so, on more than an individual basis. It will be much easier with the Autobots. I don't particularly enjoy my playthings being _purely_ submissive as a long-term thing. I've never had one of these sockets, but I have had long-term favorites, and teaching them to be submissive and welcoming with some fire in them is so very satisfying. Doing it on a civilization-wide scale...."** He purred at the thought of the challenge.

 **"Sex and pleasure addicts too,"** Dáin'Domh chirred in approval and a bit of excitement. **"Oh, Jazz would be willing to take plenty of flak from Prime for us if we pulled that off. _He'd_ punish us rather than Prime if we got caught. He's always struggling to find sockets for those that don't want an equal partner but still have to abide by Prime's laws. Yes, that would be a very welcome challenge and change."**

 **"Not a good option on this world, with this tech level, but on another, I'd take it up in a sparkbeat,"** Ravage agreed. **"Some time, perhaps. It's also _quite_ possible to do it in a way that we wouldn't be caught doing anything _wrong_... just have to, basically, teach them the facts of life. Their offerings give us life and power - the ability to survive, to help them, and to protect them from the demons who would destroy them given the chance. It's not like those demons don't exist, in quite evocative forms at that,"** he added. **"Mmm ... a delicate balance that I never had the opportunity to try for under the Decepticons. Never thought that being captured could be the best thing to happen to me,"** he mused.

Dáin'Domh clicked in approval, his energy field flicking with excitement. **"Quite true. It must be done carefully, but we would not be Intel or scouts if we could not do that. Jazz might even let us 'test' the theory in the more isolated regions of Earth if I ask right. The female that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe have is from such an area. Of course, the humans ruling that area at the time did manage to anger Prime enough that he had Jazz install a puppet government after her mechs devastated the existing one. It would have been nice to have been here for that."**

 **"If you think that's frustrating, imagine being here, but in stasis for it,"** Ravage growled irritably. **"Any group that would have pissed off Prime that much would have been one I could have cut loose against at least once in a while. Battle against mechs is a challenge, but not what I was built for, and much more dangerous. It is something to consider though, particularly if you know of any candidates. Perhaps ones that the 'Cons might be interested in - we could earn a little more leeway by arguing that we have to stretch further in order to save them from my former colleagues."**

 **"It's not in my databanks, but I can pass the question on to Jazz for planning future missions,"** Dáin'Domh offered. **"He'll be pleased you thought of it."**

 **"I much prefer working like that to typical Intel jobs,"** Ravage admitted. **"Not that I don't enjoy espionage, I'm good at it - but the challenge of more subtle work is more fun. That fragment of the Allspark was too easy and too hard all at the same time,"** he mused.

 **"I expect Jazz knew that when he assigned you to me,"** Dáin'Domh clicked in amusement. **"While I have espionage elements in some mission, the occasional search and destroy, most of what I do are exploratory and first contact. As long as you're partnered with me, the same will be for you."**

 **"While I'd thought it was largely because he didn't want to send me back close enough for Soundwave to try reclaiming me,"** Ravage mused. **"I don't know for sure what would happen if I encountered him again, at this point, though I'm sure that there are contingencies in place that would make everybody involved _except_ Jazz regret it. It's what Soundwave would do, if he had one of Blaster's subordinates."**

 **"That is a safe assumption,"** Dáin'Domh nodded slightly and clicked his jaw-pincers. **"Though I expect there will be more of you left than Soundwave would leave of one of Blaster's. Jazz is quite the fan of recycling frames with sparks in them. It honestly says quite a bit about Jazz's approval of you that your memory and protocols are as intact as they are."**

 **"I was never actually killed,"** Ravage pointed out. **"I was slightly surprised that the bond was broken when I came around, actually. You're likely right about how much would be left though; Soundwave prefers thorough work. Do you have any particular questions for me that you'd like to go into?"** He asked, hoping for a different topic.

 **"Have you developed a taste for a type or gender of socket?"** Dáin'Domh with honest curiosity. **"I've always preferred males, and smaller predators. Tagira is an unusual one, but she and her mate have served well."**

 **"Female predators, smaller or otherwise ... Tagira would very much be more normal type, actually, from what I've seen so far. Though I've never had as close a bond with an organic as you, or most Autobots, seem to have,"** he added.

 **"I expect it would be unwise as a Decepticon to even come close,"** Dáin'Domh nodded his head slightly. **"You might be surprised how varied the depth of it is among the Autobots. Prime may try to put on a show that all Autobots value organics as much as our own kind, but it's really only true for a handful of them. Most of us joined to do away with the mass torture of the generators, not because we think of organics as much more than valuable pets. Prime demands we treat them well, provide for and protect them, but he can't control how much anyone cares for their organic. If he tried, the Terror Twins and half the army would have been booted vorns ago."**

 **"I'm not surprised - the 'Cons aren't as homogenous either. Most of our scouts know the generators aren't nearly as enjoyable as an organic who enjoys the process, to some extent. It's one of the reason I enjoy one who's at least a little on the masochistic side,"** he admitted. **"I do like to play rough, from time to time, but it's not something I'll force the issue on, especially not now."**

 **"You'll have plenty of time to find, or raise, a socket that suits your tastes,"** Dáin'Domh clicked. **"Masochism isn't as common as some desired traits but it's far from rare."**

 **"What are the main traits you've found in the sockets available around here?"** Ravage asked him. **"And while we're on the topic of sockets in general - how do you and Tagira prefer your relationship to be referred to? I don't want to call you her owner if she doesn't accept the claim."**

 **"I haven't been on world long enough to have any real idea of what's common, though violent, sex-addicted and unusually social are what I'd say right now,"** he clicked his mandibles in annoyance. **"Arrogant too. They believe they're the only intelligent species on this planet, yet we have already identified at least a dozen socket-quality ones. Many of whom they eat."**

 **"She thinks of me as her** Alpha **, her pack leader. So that or Alpha are the safest terms. She won't object to my being her owner, it translates close enough she won't take offence, many Autobots will. Her mech or my socket are universally safe ways to phrase it among Autobots."** Dáin'Domh explained. **"Between the three of us, I hold the highest rank, you are second and she is third. It's not by default, mind you. During our little hunt she was testing you, deciding if she wanted to challenge you for the second rank or not."**

 **"If it came down to it, I'm sure I could maintain the rank, though I'd rather not have to risk hurting her in the process,"** Ravage rumbled slightly. **"Do you have any idea what her general impression of me is?"**

 **"A good hunter, smart, skilled, good built-in weapons and very good at mating,"** he chuckled, tapping his legs in amusement. **"She likes you."**

 **"My opinions so far are similar of her,"** Ravage chuckled. **"That signature-shrinking trick the two of you have is very interesting, as well as her abilities with traps. Something you helped to train her with, or her own skills?"**

 **"I trained her, her kind are hunters who prefer to run their meals down, though she has far exceeded my training,"** pride was evident in Dáin'Domh manner once more. **"Organics are often very creative types once given basic knowledge,"** he admitted not quite grudgingly. **"She enjoys the challenge of creating traps that no one has seen before."**

 **"Does she stick to natural traps, or would she appreciate a look through some of Soundwave's designs?"** Ravage asked with a slight grin. **"Traps weren't my strongest suit, but I have enough schematics from security analysis to keep her busy."**

 **"If it can't be built with her claws and a knife, I doubt she'd use it, though she'd still enjoy studying them,"** he chuckled and chittered as he stretched out his frame fully. **"It took me almost an entire vorn to convince her to use little tech like the neutralizer she hit your tail with. It ended up being getting into a fight she was badly outclassed in that did it."**

 **"I think I'll make them available to her, for defensive use if nothing else,"** Ravage decided. **"Even if she never makes them, she may need to know how to identify or disarm some of them. Not that I think Soundwave will keep them in his repertoire for long now, but others undoubtedly will. If there's one constant with the Decepticons, it's that you can't overestimate the laziness of the rank and file,"** he said with some clear disdain.

 **"That's true in _any_ population,"** Dáin'Domh vented with the same mood. **"Makes it easier for us, though."**

 **"Much easier,"** Ravage chuckled. **"Though it's less common among the Autobots, from what I've seen. That, or your glitched head of security is more anal than I thought. Are there any rules regarding dinner?"** He asked, Reedman relaying that they were returning with prey.

 **"Well, he is, but I believe Prowl and Jazz keep better tabs on everyone's tactics than most leaders,"** Dáin'Domh rattled his armor plates and contracted slightly to settle in at rest. **"She'll offer me first eating, then you, but a simple refusal of 'not hungry' or 'I'm sated' will suffice. No specific words or actions that she cares about, only the intent. It's one of those social customs I learned early on is very important for her kind to maintain social order. We don't need to eat, but to refuse to give one above her in rank the choice to eat first is a clear signal she's challenging for that rank."**

 **"Thank you,"** Ravage nodded, looking over in the direction she'd be coming from to see just what was coming back with her.


	4. Congo Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after being introduced to Dáin'Domh and Tagira, Jazz shows up with a Prowl shadow and news that they have their first mission on Earth.

Ravage's finely tuned sensors picked it up first, the purring rumble of two powerful engines approaching their location on the road nearby. Or he assumed he picked it up first, as neither Dáin'Domh nor Tagira had responded yet. It only took him a nanoklik to cross-reference the sound. Jazz was in the lead, with Prowl almost directly behind him.

 **"Commanding officers incoming,"** he told the other two, jumping down from his perch and quickly taking up a regal sitting position to meet them in.

"Just **Jazz** ," Dáin'Domh slowly cycled up to moving, rotating one slender, pointed leg upside down to nudge Tagira into getting off his back. " **Prowl** will appreciate the proper decorum though," he clicked in amusement. "It does mean we're getting a mission **Prime's** sanctioned in full."

Tagira was half way through stretching and looked at her mech curiously.

 **"You'll need to give me a proper rundown on command structure and who we report to one of these days,"** Ravage observed. "Have you been informed of what the mission may be?" He asked, as Tagira slid to the ground and settled on her feet.

 **"When they leave,"** Dáin'Domh agreed as Tagira's ears and attention swiveled towards the approaching mechs. "If the rumor mill is anything to go by we'll be scouting a trouble spot somewhere on Earth for pre-invasion intel."

Ravage acknowledged with a twitch of his tail.

"Hay guys, glad ta see everyone's still functioning," Jazz's voice was annoyingly chipper as he greeted them.

Despite the silver mech being the dangerous one of the pair, Ravage couldn't help but notice just how ... _protective_ of his bonded was being. It went against everything he had on them. Ravage was just not a threat to Jazz.

"I am quite glad to be functioning," Ravage said easily, before looking over at Prowl. "I will not attempt anything - he _is_ the reason I'm still alive," he pointed out. "Though, if it makes you feel better to know where he is...." He sloughed Reedman off of his frame, the mantis-like drone forming and striking a mocking salute to the duty-bound Autobot.

Jazz snickered, but leaned back affectionately. "Don't take it personally. He's like this even with ol' Hatchet. Will be for most of th' vorn."

Prowl stiffened sharply and something passed between the pair. Jazz looked up with a gentle expression, reaching back to brush his fingers against a sensor wing.

"If ya can't work out why before ya land, ah'll be disappointed," Jazz added with a distinct, but playful, challenge in his voice. He glanced at Dáin'Domh and Tagira. "And no telling him until he's right."

"Sure thing," Tagira rumbled, her bio-readings indicating amusement.

"Anyway, you're off ta th' Congo. Prime's agreed ta th' first optics-on intel run," Jazz shifted back so his optic band was centered on them all. "Ah want a full pre-invasion intel package within ten decaorn."

 **"Understood,"** Dáin'Domh clicked, and Tagira became even more eager.

"Authorized to engage?" she asked, her feathered crest fully erect and glittering in the dappled sunlight as the end of her thick tail twitched excitedly.

Jazz chuckled and smiled indulgently at her. "In self-defense or ta protect pygmies, unarmed females, unarmed pre-adolescents, mountain gorillas or bonobos."

 **"Acceptable level of detection?"** Ravage asked, already running over the information that was publicly available on the region.

 **"Point zero three percent human, _zero_ non-Autobots,"** he decided, then focused on Dáin'Domh. **"Explain that fully on th' way there."**

 **"Of course,"** the centipede-like mech nodded.

 **"Then we had best be on our way, unless there is anything more; who will be transporting Dáin'Domh and Tagira?"** He asked easily.

 **"Starjumper, and she's transporting you as well,"** Jazz said firmly. **"You still have a lot to catch up on from Dáin'Domh before you land."**

 **"No objections, just wasn't sure if you wanted to use the added resources,"** he said, inclining his head. **"We will have a full report for you within the timeframe."**

Jazz cocked his head, a look that clearly showed that Ravage had managed to loose him for a brief moment, then the silver mech chuckled. **"Our resources aren't that scarce anymore. Starjumper,"** he added at the sound of unusually powerful engines approaching. "She'll pick you up on the beach," he motioned towards the water. Dáin'Domh and Tagira were already turning away to meet their transport, giving Ravage a moment to speak with Jazz alone, or as alone as he ever was these days, if he wished.

The beast-mech stood, looking between the two of them, quickly putting together what he'd been told, and why Jazz wouldn't be involved in a mission like getting the intel for an invasion.

 **"Congratulations, and I hope all goes well for you,"** he said, inclining his head to the two of them. **"I thought Seekers were the only ones capable of doing that. I'll go join the others,"** he said, turning to follow off after them with a few small jumps to catch up.

 **"Thank you,"** Jazz said before he had left the clearing.

Ravage could hear the pair embrace and murmur to each other, but didn't worry about what. Sparklings! He honestly never though any more would come from the Allspark, and when it had been destroyed, he knew he was right. But if the Autobots had learned how to reproduce without it, it was another mark in their favor. It wasn't as if he'd know of a Seekerling being born since the destruction of Vos.

When he reached the beach and got a good look at Starjumper, he added to his file on her. It wasn't common for a ground mech to take on a flier alt, but she was hovering only inches off the sand flawlessly with a side door open. Given her base form size, she must be stretched very thin to make an alt this big.

He jumped on board regardless, finding the others and settling in near them.

 **"Thank you all for waiting,"** he said. **"Let me know where you want me, if you'd rather I moved,"** he added to Starjumper. **"Is Jazz the first Autobot to manage that?"** He asked them.

 **"You're fine there,"** the SpecOps shuttle said smoothly, her voice warmer than the only other time he'd heard it. Of course, that time she'd been on a mission that Soundwave had interrupted. **"In modern times, he's the second,"** she answered. **"Hound was the first, though it was reabsorbed after three orn."**

 **"A pity. Hound would be an excellent spark to see what would develop from,"** he mused, respect clear in his voice. **"A good scout and warrior. I assume that Prowl is the other contributor to Jazz's?"**

 **"If he's not, no one is going to say so,"** Starjumper said. **"Hound would have been an excellent carrier, and I do not doubt that he will be eventually. It would be most unusual for the same mech to always carry unless that take a very long break between attempts. Their next one is likely to be his."**

 **"Do you mean that _Mirage_ is carrying a sparkling right now?"** Ravage asked, his surprise and disbelief clear. **"He's accepted something that ... primal?"**

 **"Mmm, right, you probably haven't meet him at home, out of mission mode, have you?"** Starjumper chuckled. **"He was very surprised, I think everyone was, but he's taking it well so far. He's going to be an absolute terror when the new spark starts to affect him with more than greater energy demands,"** she snickered knowingly.

 **"I'm sure he will ... what little I do know about him outside of missions indicates that he'd be adverse to anything that wasn't suitably ... dignified. Though I suppose that being bonded to Hound does suggest otherwise,"** he acknowledged. **"How many sparklings are there now?"**

 **"Nine,"** she paused to let the number sink in. **"Six of them are Seekerlings."**

 **"That's... things didn't take long to start, did they?"** Ravage asked, shaking his head slightly. **"How many beast-frames are there left, besides the two of us?"**

 **"Once Shimmerfire got things started, which she did without even mentioning her plans to Ratchet, it kind of set things off,"** Starjumper snickered. **"After all, once you have six Seekerlings on the way, a handful of extra grounders doesn't seem like a big deal."**

 **"There's Blaster's brood; Ramhorn, Steeljaw and Blacksnap, Sonic and Convergence. I'm rather surprised we don't have kittens and chicks on the way,"** Dáin'Domh clicked in bemusement. **"Nocturne was alive six orn ago, I'm not sure about the others."**

 **"There's six Dinobots and Sky Lynx, if you care to count them,"** Starjumper added cheerfully.

 **"They're beast-alts,"** Ravage said, shaking his head slightly. **"The Dinobots, at least. And grounder sparklings just don't happen, as far as I know,"** he pointed out.

 **"No, they don't 'just happen',"** Starjumper agreed. **"But that's a political thing more than our nature. We _can_ , we just _didn't_ for a long time."**

**"It's still a little surprising to me that it could happen; I wasn't aware of it, personally, and I don't _think_ Soundwave was either, though he may have just not said anything. Perhaps we should focus on the mission? Sparklings aren't going to be an issue for any of us for some time, as far as I'm aware."**

**"Not for you three at least,"** Starjumper sounded just a bit smug.

 **"Yes, the mission,"** Dáin'Domh agreed. **"I expect within the vorn I'll be up to speed enough that what Jazz told us and the datapack he sent will be all you need. He prefers to give basic objectives and let us work out everything else. Very much approves of us taking advantage of opportunities of all kinds."**

 **"Side note. You do know I'm one of his?"** Starjumper asked. **"It's why I'm your transport and not Skyfire."**

 **"Yes, she ranks us,"** Dáin'Domh added.

 **"I'll keep it in mind,"** Ravage said respectfully. **"So, what qualifies as exposure to the locals? I know that acceptable sightings - and acceptable means of dealing with them - vary between Autobots and Decepticons. Soundwave would expect that any leaks be dealt with violently, unless the objective would be compromised otherwise."**

 **"That will actually vary by mission, who detects you and how likely Prime is to find out about whatever we do about it,"** Dáin'Domh warned. **"All of that are things that the briefing covered in Jazz-speak. If it is one of the groups we are to protect, we are expected to play nice and be good Autobot ambassadors,"** he actually grumbled. **"Try to get them to agree not to speak of us, but violence will almost never be acceptable.**

**"Against those we're there to get intel on so Jazz and Prowl can plan their extinction or subjugation, we're free to do almost anything we feel like to them.**

**"With neutral parties, those that we are not there to defend but we are not actually preparing to go to war with, is where judgment comes in,"** he explained. **"If they are not a likely threat for the mission, acceptable tactics include talking to them to gain their cooperation, letting them go, using a mild hallucinogen so they can't tell you from anything else and any other tricks we can think of that won't leave them damaged. If they are a likely threat, killing is acceptable, but Prime really prefers we try non-lethal ideas first.**

**"Now if it's a Con or Insecticon, we pretty much get to do anything we can think of before killing it."**

**"Noted - and no objections at all, for the Insecticons. Creepy little vermin,"** Ravage shuddered. **"So, how much plausible deniability does he want regarding what happened before somebody gets self-defended?"**

 **"Jazz, not much. Prime knows full well not to ask too many questions,"** Dáin'Domh clicked in amusement. **"Prime prefers a fair amount, which means that as long as we can make it work for him, we can get away with it. Right now we are in a very good place because you're still going to be considered a Con by the humans and they don't know what Tagira or I could be. Basic rule: if you are doing something questionable, don't leave evidence it was you."**

 **"My violence will all be perfectly justifiable under the parameters we were given,"** Ravage promised with entirely too much self-satisfaction. **"Would you like to connect, so we can establish our exploration pattern more quickly, or follow it where everybody can see and hear what's going on?"** He offered.

 **"Since we can all network through me easily enough, a link sounds best,"** Dáin'Domh extended on thin leg towards Ravage and uncovered a port in it to plug into.


	5. First Kills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravage is on his own, trusted to be without direct supervision, and decides that he had the justification to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tammy Whitestead**. 26. American. Tanned white skin, natural blond hair, blue-green eyes. Biologist with an anthropologist focus on rain forest life and 'primitive' humans and some botanist background. Volunteered with the peace corps to come here to help the pygmies.

Ravage settled into a tree as the sun began to set over jungle of the southwestern parts of the Congo. He'd seen all sorts of different societies and cultures over the vorns, the different ways they interacted. The ways they squandered and wasted their energies and resources fighting each other.

It was strange, how the sort of infighting and warfare he was seeing now was almost unique among socket-capable species. Species who didn't have the intelligence and self-awareness would often turn on their own kind, but not with the sort of malice he saw now. They could fight and kill and even eat their brethren, but they rarely, if ever, actively sought those encounters out intentionally the way a militia group he'd found did, and without a single unifying ideal to even point at as an excuse, the way the Decepticons and Autobots both justified their own atrocities.

He had to wonder, privately, what Dáin'Domh thought about it; did the Autobot or his socket feel a sense of sickness about it, the way he was sure the Prime would when he read the reports? Was there a sense of outrage there, at the waste of natural resources and potential, the likes of which most Autobot scouts he'd encountered would feel? The sort of helpless acceptance of 'man's inhumanity to man' that he'd encountered in the human-penned reports on the region?

Or was it simply an analytical fascination for them, the way he considered it? An extra datapoint in an equation that seemed to govern sentient behavior, something that helped to adjust the impact on that equation of logic? He'd have to compare his observations with theirs eventually, on more than just this case - see if they'd reached the same conclusions he had on the existence of 'free will.'

His ears perked up as he detected a sound in the distance - the sound of gunfire and screams. He'd mostly been detecting the aftermath of violence so far, picking up on tremors that were too far away for him to react to in time to justify the actions he'd take as defensive. This time, they'd made a mistake.

They'd begun their attack within audio range.

Ravage turned and leaped off through the trees, extending his sensors to pick up the human lifesigns, observing the rate with which they were dropping off. A couple dozen of them, between both sides of the conflict. The losses were almost completely one-sided, telling him that this wasn't a battle, it was a massacre.

He just hoped he'd be there while there would still be survivors; on comparing the audio signatures of the gunfire, he could tell that this was the same group he'd encountered before. He'd been waiting for an excuse to cut loose ever since he'd discovered them.

Knowing the drone would be faster, he dropped Reedman to the ground, sending him ahead to observe until his arrival, so he'd have an idea of what he'd be dealing with.

The odds that came back were good. A score of attackers, all of local stock; one pygmy and two foreign humans still alive on the defending side. They were in an open area, a camp the foreigners had built. There was so much cover to be had between his leaping range from the jungle's cover and the various tents, stacks of crates and the ancient, barely functional vehicle. There was deep water too, in the river they had likely used to reach this deep.

One of the foreigners, a female in her prime, made a break for it when the pygmy she'd been trying to help escape was shot and died. She made it into the jungle while most of the attackers were occupied with the surviving foreign male or had lost sight of her.

~Follow?~ Reedman queried.

~Follow, maintain stealth and surveillance. Leave ping trail if necessary to leave contact radius,~ he added, not wanting to lose track of his drone or his quarry as he reached the trees at the edge of the clearing, too late for the foreign male as he was riddled with bullets, some of the militia taking off to chase after the woman while the others stayed to deal with the score and some of corpses.

There would be many more soon.

 **"I'm going to enjoy tearing you all apart,"** he growled lowly, not bothering to translate from Cybertronian, knowing that the alien sounds would do more to disturb them than anything he might say in any language they knew. **"When they find your bodies, they'll have an entirely new demon to tell the tales of."** He savored their reactions to being caught out, being found, by something they couldn't see themselves, using the natural cover of the forest and his own talents to make the sounds seem to come from several different places at once.

Several with quicker wits focused on the sound of his voice and opened fire.

He moved out of the way, leaving them with just enough rustling to tell he was still there before he started moving more silently, prowling around to the other side while they kept firing, picking one on the outer edges of the group to play with first.

"You cannot see me, cannot touch me - but I can touch you," he said, shifting to the local language he'd picked up pieces of since his arrival, activating his cloak and leaping through, pausing just long enough to grab the one on the outer edge by the head, lifting him up and giving a sharp shake, snapping his neck effortlessly, before he dropped the corpse and leaped back out of the clearing, behind cover again as he let them realize what had just happened in the handful of nanokliks he'd taken to accomplish the first kill.

"Any time, and in any way I want," he added, before moving away from his location, lining up another strike. He could have killed them all in under a klik, if he'd wanted to - his guns could have mowed them down like so much grass. But it was far more fun toying with them, letting the fear build - fear that he stoked, leaping through again, this time impaling another of them - one who'd acted to fire more quickly - on a leg-spine, kicking him off and against a tree with his leap away.

The group's unit moral broke and they began to scatter, some in hysterics, others grabbing one or two comrades in an effort to make a survivable retreat.

So much for his fun.

He leaped forward, quickly eviscerating any he hadn't crushed with his landing before taking off after the others, making short work of the distance they covered and wiping them out as quickly as possible before he reached out to contact Reedman and receive a visual on what was going on, his glossa at work cleaning the blood from his gleaming black surface.

Three of the attackers had chased after her, caught up with her. They hadn't killed her yet, but they were abusing her, taking pleasure with her body and in her tears and begging.

He'd thought she'd be able to keep ahead of them longer than that. He just hoped that they'd keep her alive long enough for him to catch up.

He turned and took off, not as much caution for stealth this time, keeping his cloak up and making more noise on his approach. When he was less than half a klick away, he sent a command to Reedman to move in, and take the one who was closest, distract the other two for his own arrival.

He could _hear_ the scream of agony as Reedman did as he was commanded, along with the gurgle that finished it out when his drone shredded a lung and moved back under cover, dragging his prey with him.

Two automatic riffles opened fire in Reedman's direction, not that it was of much threat to the small drone. His sensors noted that the female was moving away, though not quickly enough. She was either more damaged than she seemed, or didn't have the wits to get to her feet and run.

He'd have to take care of that. And likely quickly.

The new time element changed the tenor of his fun; when he reached the other two, he didn't bother with any sort of teasing or toying with them - instead, he just aimed his leg cannons, and fired off a short staccato burst from each that ripped up the backs of his two targets.

~Search their bodies for any intelligence, then return to the others and do the same,~ he ordered Reedman, turning to look for the survivor, trying to think of what she'd probably find most comforting based on what he knew.

It turned out his olfactory sensors were his best resource. She reeked of fear and male secretions. Despite the terror she was projecting so strongly he could _feel_ it as he came close to her hiding spot inside a thick plant growth, he privately was impressed that she remained absolutely still and silent. It was prey response, to freeze and hope the predator moved on, but it was also good sense for against humans who were stronger and better armed.

He was sure that he was far more terrifying for her than they were. He was configured to be, after all.

He put together a basic holoform quickly, projecting a figure of her ethnic stock, or at least what he thought it was, cross-referencing his files and putting together a very basic personality, outfit, and profile, before sending him out, a middle-aged white male with black hair and a short, well-trimmed black beard, with a rifle slung across his back and a bag over his shoulder. He also sent a meager number of nanites along after him, concealed in the grass for what he would have to do.

"I'm here to help you," he offered in English, crouching down outside her hiding spot without exposing her. "I'm sorry I couldn't reach you any sooner," he said, the tone of an honest apology clear in his voice despite his accent, somewhere between Slavic and Russian. "The men who attacked you will not be back."

She shuddered, taking her time in deciding is this man was to be trusted. Ravage gave her time, tuning his mind to taming a injured, abused wild animal rather than a normal first contact.

"Who are you?" She finally decided to ask, moving a bit closer, though she didn't emerge from her hiding place.

"Dmitri Medev," he said easily. "I was in the area on a research trip, just setting up camp when I heard the screams." He knelt down closer to her level. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss...?"

"Dr. Whitestead," she seemed to be pulling her wits together. Her heart rate was down, adrenal secretions decreasing more slowly, awareness of pain picking up. "Tammy Whitestead. I was with a Peace Corps mission to help the pygmies when a militia attacked."

Ravage immediately logged into the intel network Jazz had given him access to look her up. 'Tammy Whitestead' wasn't an uncommon name, but after narrowing down to those with a doctorate, with the Peace Corps and known to be in the area, he had it down to one that matched her ID image well enough.

Twenty-six local stellar cycles old, not far into full physical maturity. American by birth, Norwegian by heritage. Doctorate in biology with a focus in the hominid line and enough botany to get it listed. Mission listed as protecting the local pygmy population.

"The ones who had you won't be bothering them any more," he promised. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a doctor, but if you're willing, I can offer some first aid, something to stop the pain until I have you back somewhere safe," he offered, hoping she wouldn't ask for too many details about how he'd get her there.

She considered that, then nodded even though he couldn't see it and slowly crawled out of her hiding spot, nervously looking around before focusing on him. I don't suppose you found my shirt?" she asked, her hands covering her bare upper body.

"I didn't pick it up along the way, but I found what was left ... there's not much there," he offered. "After you're more stable, I can go back for it," he offered.

She nodded and cautiously stepped a little closer, not sure what he could do or offer her. Her mind was quickly moving onto the priorities of survival; get back to camp, assess what was left, gather supplies and get to a safe settlement to contact the outside with news of what happened. As much as she was curious what this man was doing here, given she knew he wasn't with any of the humanitarian efforts, right now it was better to not know if he was a poacher or whatever else brought a Westerner alone into the deep Congo.

Ravage sent out a series of low-frequency EM pulses, hoping that they would work to calm her down, as Dmitri pulled out a medical kit.

"If you'll lay down, so you don't stress anything, I'll make sure you're all right," he told her, quietly kicking himself for not seeing if he could get a full holoform upgrade before leaving on this mission.

When he was back, that would be on the top of his requisition list.

A little reluctantly, but feeling inexplicably _good_ about this man, Tammy checked the jungle floor for trouble and laid down. A deep, shuddering breath escaped her as she began to relax. A part of her mind told her she should not be this calm, much less this trusting, after witnessing her entire group shot down and the pygmies they were trying to protect slaughtered, then what the three men who's caught up with her had done.

But she was. She was relaxing quickly, between whatever made her trust this man and her own drop in adrenaline levels.

Then again, it might also be shock setting in... she _knew_ that was going to be a factor, there wasn't much way around it. Strange, how she could be so calm about it.

Ravage did his best to make sure that she wouldn't have much time to realize that Dmitri wasn't who he seemed to be, quietly hoping that her position and the exhaustion she was feeling would leave her asleep shortly. Normally, it would be disastrous, but he knew he could stabilize her, something that he put the nanites to work doing, using careful coordination between 'Dmitri' and the nanites to make sure it felt at least _almost_ right.

He sent out a broadcast message, pinging both of his partners with his coordinates. He knew he'd need help to make sure his healing job took properly, whether she was awake or not.

Tagira responded as the closer, estimating her arrival within a joor and a half. Dáin'Domh said that his socket was skilled enough to fix the human without being detected and unless there was need for him, he wished to remain on the hunt he had going.


	6. Breaking News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tammy Whitestead had a very horrible day, but now it's just turning _weird_.

Tammy came to consciousness reluctantly despite the distressing images her mind was insisting on playing for her as she swum against the molasses trying to keep her under. Only half way there she collapsed back into the oblivion of deep sleep.

The next time awareness came easier, though it was still full of terrifying images. She gasped as she opened crystal blue eyes, frantically taking in the inside of a very large, thick fabric tent that was distinctly cooler than it should be. She was off the ground on a relatively large cot, tucked into blankets and felt ... clean? Cleaner than she'd felt since she'd left America for this mission.

"Ah, you're awake. Good," a smooth, softly accented female voice greeted her from somewhere to her right.

She turned her head and took in a very tall, lithe, muscular woman a bit older than she was with chocolate brown skin and glossy black hair done up in a multitude of tight braids.

"Who are you?" Tammy asked as she tried to place the look of the tent. It seem halfway Western, halfway ... she didn't know what.

"My name is Tagira," the woman smiled at her as she walked over with a hunter's grace, a glace of water in her hand. "You should drink," she sat on the edge of the cot and helped Tammy sit up. "It will keep the pain away and help your healing."

Despite her reluctance to go with native medicines if she didn't have to, Tammy obediently drank. The cool, refreshing, somewhat citrus-like taste surprised her. So did the strength it seemed to give her.

"Feeling better?" Tagira asked with a smile.

"Yes," Tammy didn't hide her mild surprise.

"Are you feeling up to meeting who saved you?" She asked gently.

"Sure," Tammy looked around, spotting the entrance and that the tent was set up for two to sleep in but also with a significant amount of open space.

"I'm glad you're awake again," Dmitri said as she came outside with Tagira ready to support (or stop) her. "How are you feeling?" He asked her, even as Ravage ran some gentle scans from his location just outside the clearing.

"Better than I think I should be," she admitted, looking around the jungle and realizing they weren't that far her former camp ... and that they'd had time to salvage from it.

~Ravage, whatever else happens, her long-term damage is well beyond field repair. One of her attackers infected her with what looks to be a very nasty body fluid-born virus.~

~One that it's possible even Ratchet might not be able to fix,~ Ravage warned Tagira, considering the likely suspects based on what he knew about the region. ~I know, but we can't compromise the mission without orders. I broadcast a message back to base while you were working on her, just waiting for a reply.~

"I'm not the best field medic you could ask for, but Tagira is very skilled," he told her easily. "How much do you remember of what happened?"

"We were just finishing breakfast when the gunshots began," she answered quietly, her eyes on the ground as she tried not to remember what she was relating. "Steph and I tried to get the pygmies to the river where they could escape. She didn't make it ten paces. The rest, until I was alone, is kind of a blur ... I could probably remember details if I tried. When I ran into the jungle ... I remember it all," she shuddered and tried to block it out.

"Do you remember the creature that jumped one of the three men who attacked you?" He asked her gently, sure that Reedman had taken enough time in the clearing before disappearing to attract notice, but not sure if _she'd_ seen it. "Contrary to appearances, it _is_ a tame creature," he explained. It was true enough, after all... tame for him, at least.

"Creature?" she looked up sharply in alarm. "That was a _creature_?"

Ravage quietly fumed inside his head. Of all the things that he could have lied about, no matter how gently, she would have to pick the smallest one to be freaked out about.

~It could be far worse,~ Tagira pointed out with a small smile.

"Not exactly, but close," he explained gently and felt her relax. Strange organic. "Mechanical, well-controlled, but designed to look like a living creature, and capable of behaving much like one. I tend to think of him as one. If it would make you feel more comfortable with the idea, I could have him come out and let you meet him, see that he isn't dangerous to you."

Tammy shifted uneasily, torn between natural curiosity, the need to report what happened, wanting to see her friends properly berried, concern why these strangers would be trying to share what must be secrets with her and the general sickness as what happened to her kept sinking in against her will.

Eventually she decided that she couldn't come up with a way she could be any more screwed than she already was by taking him up on it.

"All right," she nodded. "Umm, when you got the salvage ... what about the ... the bodies?"

"We gave them a very basic burial, though we didn't know names to put on markers," he said, grateful for Tagira's suggestion to follow the most common local customs. "Right now, Reedman is watching over them - he'll be here to meet you shortly," he said, sending the recall command out. "With what has been happening around here, we didn't particularly want to leave unattended bodies around, particularly not pygmies."

"Thank you," she smiled shakily and at him and decided that she had little to loose by asking what she really wanted to know. "What brought you to the Congo?"

"Before I can tell you any details, I'll need to communicate with my base. However, what I can tell you is that I'm here to study the local conditions, to see how the reality compares with the publicly available information about this region. To try and sort out which of the versions of events is least wrong." There was a faint scuttling sound, almost like a large cicada, and Dmitri turned to give Tammy and idea of the direction to look.

"That would be Reedman; come out, carefully, we have a new friend with us," he said aloud, trying to reassure her as the silvery mantid practically glided out of cover, exposing himself to let her see him well, instead of just for the few moments before he'd finished the soldier raping her.

Against all odds, Tammy seemed much more curious than afraid. She actually took a step towards Reedman and studied him with intelligent, scientifically trained eyes. "What can you tell me about it?" she asked curiously, taking another cautious step towards the drone.

"He's a mechanical drone amalgam," he explained easily. "Made up of thousands of tiny, ball-bearing sized drone units that can combine together into the Reedman unit, or fulfill a number of other functions. I was using him for surveillance before the attack. Why were you so upset when I suggested he might be a creature?" He asked her, trying to get a feel for how terribly badly she would take _his_ several tons of very sentient metal.

At least she had the grace to look a bit embarrassed when she glanced at his holoform before focusing on Reedman once more. "Because I was sure it was metal, and 'metal' plus 'creature' don't ... shouldn't ... exist. At least not native to anywhere I've heard of. If it was a native creature, I'd have expected to hear legends of it by now. It makes quite an impression in a very short time."

"Yes, it does," he chuckled lowly. "At least when it's told to - I wanted to create as much a distraction for you as I could. I'm afraid that neither of us have been able to treat all of your injuries," he said, changing the topic as she returned to examining the perfectly calm drone, Ravage sending a basic series of commands to make him behave a little more like a well-contented domestic animal receiving attention, to try and keep her calm, and get her used to the idea of living metal before meeting _him_.

"Far more than I expected possible," Tammy smiled at him, not wanting them to think she was ungrateful for what they did do, which she knew was well beyond anything a field team should have been able to. "The real damage won't show up for a decade, if at all." She spoke more quietly and carefully approached Reedman, ready for any indication she'd crossed the line. "What was it designed for?"

"Whatever he's needed to do," Dmitri said easily. "We would _like_ to take you back for proper medical care; you can help us with our mission here, and my superiors would dismantle me if I didn't offer you proper medical care, in the circumstances."

His choice of words earned him a long, hard look before she regarded Reedman again. "Before I agree ... are either of you human?"

~I'm impressed,~ Tagira said grudgingly. ~I'm not laying any bets that she's not still considering bolting on us, but that's quite a leap.~

~My poor wording,~ Ravage pointed out irritably, more upset with himself than anything else. ~Two slips in one conversation; my social coding should be completely rewritten after that. You should probably reveal yourself first, given her reaction to the idea of metallic creatures.~

"No, but we _are_ concerned with the conditions here," he acknowledged. "We aren't invaders, or conquerors."

Not any more, at any rate, but he wasn't about to point _that_ out to her. Of course, if what he'd picked up from Jazz was any indication, to _this_ area, the Autobots may well be conquerors.

"Right," Tammy looked back and forth between the pair, steeling her resolve.

"My race are the called Itaria," Tagira spoke first. "By appearance, a feathered, marsupial wolf. I will show you, if you promise not to run."

Tammy tightened her jaw and locked eyes with the taller woman. "Deal."

Tagira nodded and dropped her holo-cloak so Tammy could see her full eight feet of furred, feathered bipedal predator looking down at her.

"Oh my...." Tammy's jaw slid open, her eyes dilated completely and every instinct she had screamed to run, but she couldn't. She always thought it was stupid, vapid victims that 'froze in fear' but here she was, trained to defend herself and having seen more than a few bad things very much in that state.

"This is _not_ the way I would usually want to handle a first contact," Dmitri admitted with a sigh. "My preferred methods simply take too long for what you need. Her name actually is Tagira; if you would be more comfortable, she can return to the appearance you met before easily."

She nodded a little frantically, not entirely sure any of the command actually made it visible until the feathered werewolf in front of her vanished and the tall human woman was there. All she could do was tremble for a too-long time.

"What ... what do I need?" Tammy stammered.

"For medical treatment?" He asked her, to cover for the scan to confirm _just_ what it was she needed, beyond the HIV treatment.

She nodded, focusing on him as she got herself under control.

"There were internal injuries that we couldn't completely treat, and you have been badly exhausted by the conditions out here," he explained. "Your nutrient levels are all off from human norm, one of the reasons you felt so much better so quickly with the drink that Tagira gave you. You have also been infected with a very nasty virus that I am almost certain we can treat for you."

"HIV," she didn't have to guess. "Given how much of the militias are infected it was likely," she murmured. "So ... how long will I be gone?"

~Estimates? I'd guess a few orn if Soundwave or Skywarp were doing it for some reason, but I've got no clue what the Autobot medics will feel is a suitable amount of downtime for her,~ he asked Tagira.

~Longer than she'll even begin to tolerate,~ she chuckled with a dark humor born of experience of having it inflicted upon her. ~Not that Ratchet will care. Two decaorn, maybe three.~

"It will depend on what our medic decides is best for you - there's very little I want _less_ than to have to try and argue with his idea of how best to treat a patient. It could be anywhere from a few days, to a month, but considering the injuries that are being dealt with it's not unlike what would happen if you found your way to a good hospital. It's not due to any question of skill, just a matter of when he believes your treatments are complete ... he managed to treat me after my spine was ripped out, so there's quite a bit that he's capable of repairing."

"Spine?" she squeaked, her eyes going wide in shock before blinking and chuckling at herself. "I suppose that's not as amazing as it sounds, given the tech difference," she looked a little sheepish. "Can I report where the rest of the expedition is buried before this medic takes over?"

"Yes. You won't be able to tell them where you're going, but you can tell them where the others are buried, that the ones responsible are _very_ dead, and that you're being cared for," he nodded. "I should also warn you; I am not the same species as Tagira, and neither is our medic. I'd rather bring you into the full reality of what you've tripped into as gently as possible; you've got more than enough to deal with, right now."

Tammy nodded, then regarded him for a bit. "You're like Reedman, a machine? You said you'd be dissembled if your leader was angry enough."

"It's also why replacing my spine wasn't _quite_ as impressive as it would have been with, say, Tagira," he nodded. "Though, despite the mechanical body, Cybertronians _are_ living things, simply inorganic ones."

He needed her to be willing to back up his story - the deaths wouldn't be accepted without some sort of witness. Besides, it would be bonus points with the Autobots _outside_ intel if he could handle this well, and see her healed. He kept telling himself why he was doing all this, why he was trying to avoid panicking her. He had to, to silence the voice in the back of his processors that was bristling at his trying to soothe an _organic_ , that had put him in the position of even needing to _say_ that Cybertronians were alive, intelligent, and not just drones like Reedman.

The voice that still sounded distinctly like Soundwave, regardless of the broken bond.

She nodded again, thoughtfully. "Is Reedman really a 'thing', then?" she motioned towards it. "Or is ... it ... like you?"

"A thing," he said easily, grateful for an easy-to-answer question. "He has a very advanced hive-mind AI, but by our standards he is still very primitive in most respects, certainly in comparison to a fixed-body drone. A true Cybertronian, like myself, Tagira's Alpha, or our medic, not only has a much more advanced mechanical body and code, but a spark as well... a soul, in your terms, I suppose. It's a very distinct difference to us, between a drone and a person."

Tammy blinked a couple times. "How can you tell if something has a spark?"

"It's a physical thing," Tagira responded and gently guided the human to sit down before she went to get another glass of the customized nutrient drink. "They can feel it rather like we could feel body heat or a pulse. It's generally obvious at a glance. The rest of us can see it, if you can get one to trust you that much. That's the real trick in seeing a spark. They're extremely protective of them."

"For good reason," he said dryly. "There are also subtle signs that you can pick up on; a drone will typically react in ways that _feel_ programmed, unless they're directly being commanded. It's similar to the difference between identifying a living, breathing person from an inanimate copy, for us. I'm not the best qualified to explain it, but the difference is clear; rather like trying to see if an organic is breathing, to tell if they're actually alive."

Tammy nodded and sipped her drink, getting about half of it down before her brain kicked out the next question.

"You're both aliens, right?" she glanced between them. "Not native to Earth."

"Yes," Tagira nodded slightly, curious where this was going.

"How many people-class species do you count as native to this planet?"

"Roughly twenty, perhaps double that, depending on the definition we work by," he decided after a few minutes to consider the files. "Primarily primates and water-dwelling mammals."

"Oh wow," Tammy's eyes went wide, but it was in amazement, excitement ... even joy. Regret and pain hit a moment later. "The number we've driven to extinction," she murmured. "It will take so long to convince people you're right."

"Longer than you might imagine," he agreed. "However, that is an issue that can be handled later. Our goal at this point is to try and protect as many of the different sentients as we can, including from each other to a certain extent. It's why we were sent here; it's one of the major areas that my superiors are looking at. You probably understand the reasons better than we do," he admitted, hinting that she could be able to help them, and the region, at the same time.

She nodded almost numbly, her mind spiraling out, seeing how many species she could name that she'd expect to be on that list they wanted to protect. "How can I help? Everything I can think of are in the reports. Most of my local contacts are dead."

"You're a direct eye-witness though," he explained. "What you've seen, what's happened to you, is further proof of what's happening. It gives my superiors reassurance that the reports they see aren't exaggerations or propaganda. You also have contacts yet, with your parent organization?" He checked.

"Yes," she nodded quickly. "Just not in this area, not with locals here. But I'm still in the Crisis Group."

"You may be able to serve as a liaison with them, help us get more information and connections in the region," he said easily. "Even if you can't, we'd offer the medical assistance as a matter of course. If you would like to prepare your report, so we can review it for any information that can't be shared without clearance, we could begin preparations for getting you back to base?" He suggested.

"I'll need paper and a pen," Tammy quickly scrambled in her mind to put all of this in something that resembled order, already reasonably convinced she knew what she couldn't say and organized that as a second report to send in when it was cleared ... or she escaped, whatever came first.

"Inside the tent," Tagira offered her a hand up. "You can sit and write in relative comfort."


	7. Mission Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravage contacts Diego Garcia and all Pit breaks loose from there. Jazz, however, is pleased with his new agent.

While Dr. Whitehead went in to work on her report, Ravage let out a low huff from his vents and dropped his stealth cloak, revealing the parts of himself that couldn't be concealed in the tall grass.

 **"The lengths I'm going to, to get a live witness,"** he growled in low Cybertronian, keeping an eye on the tent to make sure she didn't come out. **"Keep an eye on things here, Tagira - I'm going to get up to the canopy and call for medical evac for her."**

With that, he turned and took off for the trees, heading up to the top levels where he knew he'd be able to get the best reception at long-range. If he was going to contact base, it would be from up there.

::"Ravage, with DRC expedition unit, calling Diego Garcia. Changing conditions have made contact with mission lead necessary, preferably Jazz. Reply when further contact can be received,":: he broadcast, waiting for a reply from base, scowling darkly at a monkey that landed on the branch across from his nose and shrieked at him. He exposed his teeth in a silent snarl, but tolerated the creature's presence. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally discover another socket-capable species just _after_ squishing it for annoying him.

He was honestly surprised when Jazz pinged him for a live conversation less than a klik later.

::Hay, mah'cat. What's up?:: Jazz sounded like his perky self, but a lifetime of watching the mech warned Ravage that _something_ was up. Most likely something to do with his condition, given the timing. What little he had on it from Seekers said that it could cause all sorts of personality shifts, but they all summed up to a single thing: don't present a threatening image and they'll react normally.

Hopefully it was something minor, like his bonded not being in sight for the moment. At least if it wasn't, he was well out of range of any immediate repercussions. He'd always been a firm believer in staying out of easy lunging distance of a carrying Seeker, and with somebody with Jazz's skills, that was even more critical.

::I encountered a militia group attacking relief workers and a group of pygmies; I was too late for most of them, but managed to rescue one of the relief workers. Unfortunately, she requires more medical care than the three of us are qualified for, including treatment for a very nasty local retrovirus. I've made an entirely too quick first contact, but I believe she's at the point where she can be brought back to base without completely breaking her mind. It's possible that it's just the trauma finding odd places to break through, but I'm not going to count on it.::

::Has she see your real form?:: Jazz's cheerfulness dimmed, turned serious, but he didn't sound displeased. ::How useful is she likely to be to convincing Prime to take control of the area?::

::No, she hasn't, but she has seen Reedman, and Tagira. I felt it was inadvisable to push things by introducing her to my own form; she reacted strongly to the idea of living metallic beings, and the idea of relating to a giant mechanical panther as an intelligent creature seemed like an unnecessary risk this early. I will also have to put in a request for a better holoform projector; the one I have is very primitive, and not particularly effective for interacting with people at close range. As for how useful she is likely to be - I believe very. She was working with the local pygmies, and is a first-generation witness and survivor of a massacre. Her direct story is likely to prove very effective at persuading Prime, if he reacts to emotional appeals as well as has been suggested. She also can serve as a contact with the organization that sent her; Crisis Group, I believe. They will have additional contacts in the region. Her name is Dr. Tammy Whitehead, I managed to cross-reference her through your files,:: he offered.

Jazz seemed to process all that for a long moment before responding.

::I'll work on the arrangements to pick her up and treat her. Worst case we'll just wipe her memories of us and drop her where you fund her to wake up. Unless it becomes a mission issue, you'll get upgraded when this one's over. Anything else to report now?::

::Not time-critical,:: Ravage replied. ::And of course, after it's over. I was simply making the note. Old habits; put in a requisition at least three metacycles before you think you'll _really_ need it,:: he said with a mental chuckle. ::Any special instructions for working with the doctor?::

A brief pause. ::No, you seem to be doing fine. Talk with you later,:: he said cheerfully before signing off.

Yes, his mood swings were definitely something simple like Prowl being out of optic range briefly today. At least that was easy to understand. Emotional mechs like him could be so difficult to comprehend sometimes... it was what made him good at his job, but had the potential to be frustrating.

While he was in the canopy, he reached out with his sensors, to see what was in the area.

::I think we may be going about this wrong,:: he pinged Tagira on her socket. ::Our mission goal is to get Prime to bring the Autobots in here and fix things. So why are we looking for Intel, instead of somebody to come pleading for the help? Is he unlikely to listen to such a request without the backup?::

::Our primary mission is to ensure he, Jazz and Prowl have the intel they need to plan the war,:: she responded smoothly. ::Human reporting can not be trusted in such a situation. They need the real numbers, weapons, locations and crimes in real time, reported by a credible source to them. Basically, we're here to confirm or refute everything the humans say about this place.::

::Which my drones would be capable of, if I could spare the processor time to coordinate them over those ranges,:: he agreed. ::Any indication that our 'guest' might know any locations to check out specifically? She didn't seem to think so, but she may not have been considering something of importance.::

::I know how to jack into her brain to check without leaving a trace, but I'd need to keep her under most of the day. Do we have that long?::

::I'd rather not do that without some further indication that it's necessary, at this stage of things - we've mangled this contact badly enough without adding that into things,:: he explained. ::How was your progress going before this delay?:: He asked her.

::I have solid intel on three priority targets and two to protect first. I also managed to confirm that a local Pan paniscus population is a socket-quality species, though their social structure is ill-suited for being claimed. So overall, it's going well. The human reports have been largely correct in what they report, even if they don't report a lot. Jazz gave us at least twice the time we _should_ need to do a thorough job.::

::I'm picking up traces of an indigenous group nearby; since we've got the extra time, I'm going to use some of it to try and cultivate contacts. Regardless of the intel we develop, we'll need a group inside that's willing and able to serve as a front afterwards, and this could be a good opportunity to find one. Particularly if they can give us additional leads to look into while we're here. I suspect it will be best if Dr. Whitehead doesn't have to deal with more mechs than is strictly necessary, at this stage of things.::

::Agreed,:: Tagira smiled to herself as she watched the doctor work on her report. ::If you want to start on that, I'll keep an eye on her.::

::I'm going to leave Reedman in case of an emergency. I'm loading his defense-protocols; if you need to stop him, the current override code is **Alpha-two-nine,** :: he informed her, starting to move back down towards ground level and look for the group he'd identified. ::If she wants any help retrieving or re-marking the bodies, provide it for her; I want to try and keep this as friendly a contact as possible.::

::Understood. Good hunting, Ravage,:: she offered honestly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ravage kept low, his cloak on full as he hid from the group of pygmies he'd been tracking for a few hours, his scanners on full for signs of trouble. This was the delicate part of becoming a protector - making sure that they were aware there was something to be protected from and that you were responsible for keeping them safe, but keeping them ignorant that you were part of the reason they needed protection while you were conveniently nearby.

Fortunately, their lower technology made that much easier. The occasional radio ping had been slowly drawing an armed group. Either they'd turn out to be some of the local militia, or one of the security groups sent in to watch the area ... and he strongly suspected it would be the former, given their lack of attempts to contact him. He was sure the occasional burst of gibberish he sent out would seem like the natives setting up some sort of primitive transmitter so they could call for help if they needed it.

It was the sort of thing that would indicate a potentially wealthy target to hit, for opportunists like the people he was after.

When his scanners indicated that they were close enough, he flicked his tail invisibly, brushing a branch and sending some of the ripe fruit at the end falling onto the group. The noise attracted the pygmy sentries, who set up a cry of alarm as the startled militia stood and readied their weapons for the attack.

Ravage dropped out of the trees, between the attackers and the pygmies, positioning his chassis to absorb the opening volleys of gunfire. It hurt even less than the NEST weapons did, being far more primitive than even those pathetic weapons.

As the militia gasped in shock at the complete lack of dead bodies, Ravage dropped his cloak. He gave both sides a good, solid look at him before roaring a challenge to the militia.

His sensors fed him a constant string of indicators. Adrenaline rushes on both sides, spikes in epinephrine levels, endorphin bursts from some in the militia. Some of them had the presence of mind to turn and run, instead of just opening fire again - they were the ones who lived past the first nanokliks it took for him to lunge forward and attack, his spines at full extension, his tail lashing and taking the head cleanly off one of the attackers as he began the kill. This time, there was no interest in taking his time, building fear and tension. This was a calculated, business-like massacre, his natural weapons murdering the soldiers nearest him before he swung his cannons down and fired into the fleeing backs of the others.

It was all over in the time he'd taken to kill two soldiers the night before. Relaxing his spines, presenting as unthreatening a figure as he could, he turned to face the pygmies, or at least where they _had_ been, hoping they would recognize that he had come to help them rather than simply fleeing.

Nothing was visible, but his sensors picked up to very frightened and perfectly still pygmies in the undergrowth, watching. What his sensors couldn't tell him was if they'd frozen in terror or were being good observers and simply holding still to see what he was going to do next. The rest of the tribe had scattered, some to hide in their dwellings, but most into the jungle around it.

"Was anybody harmed in the attack?" He asked them in the local dialects he'd heard them speaking and settled down to be as non-menacing as he could, beginning to clean the blood from his surface with his glossa. "I am sorry that I didn't spot them sooner."

"Mygenwa?" one of the two nearest him crawled out into the relative open, his face filled with awe and desperate hope.

"That is one name for me," he said after a brief consultation failed to turn up anything from the name. It must have been a local spirit or totem name - it would be a shame to disappoint them. "I have been sent to protect your people, and to prepare the way for others to put an end to the attacks for good."

The joyous relief on the pygmy's face could have lit up a sector. The one who had remained hiding in the foliage climbed out and scrambled towards the village while the other remained where he was.

"Thank you, Mygenaw," the pygmy knelt before him. "You honor us by answering our calls."

"There is much that we should discuss," he said, nodding his head towards the pygmy.

"Of course, Mygenaw," the pygmy responded. "Please come into the village. The chief will be organizing a celebration to welcome you."

"Unnecessary, but most welcome," Ravage offered with a smile in his voice. "What is your name?" He asked the adult hunter as he followed him into the village. "And should something be done with the bodies? Their supplies will likely prove helpful."

"I am Pol'mir," the pygmy answered with a glance back towards the powerful spirit that had answered their calls. It wasn't like anything he had expected, unlike anything from the jungles, but it had protected them, knew their language and claimed to be the defender-spirit Mygenaw.

It was so huge, even to the outsider men, and killed with thunder, claws and a body as savage as a quill-pig hide on a great cat.

Before them, the village was in apparent chaos, but Ravage's processors easily picked up the organization in the frantic activity. Yes, they were most definitely organizing a feast and putting on their finery in very short time.

It was a scene he was eminently comfortable with, really. He'd been at the center of it a hundred times before, with a hundred different names and species. He idly wondered how his 'pack mates' would take to it, before focusing on business again as he saw one of the leaders.

"I will wait here, Pol'mir," he offered, "if you would like to go and prepare yourself. I do not want to get in the way of the preparations."

"As you wish," he accepted easily and darted off to speak to the chief before heading into one of the vegetation-built homes.

It gave Ravage a good view of events without being in the way any more than as an attraction for anyone who had a few seconds to spare to gawk at him.

He settled down easily, stretching his sensors out to make sure there wasn't any _more_ trouble on the way. There was some possibility that the gunfire might have attracted it, and it wouldn't do to have an attack during the victory feast for their protector spirit. Satisfied that there wasn't, at least at the moment, he sent out a broadcast to Tagira.

::Have contacted the locals; seems they were already trying to summon a protector spirit. At least it should be easy enough to persuade everybody this wasn't intentional, I haven't a clue what the local name they've got for me means.::

::Understood,:: she transmitted back. ::Good luck. What are they calling you?::

::Mygenwa,:: he said, transmitting a recording of the name. ::Anything in your databases? I couldn't find it.::

There was a long pause, one stretching into several _kliks_ before she responded.

::No, there's nothing. It must be a very local one. The closest I found was a cat-monster named Mngwa from Tanzania. Classified as a cryptid. You're not much of a match, though. Here's hoping this isn't a 'sacrifice the supernatural' situation.::

::If it is, they'd have a very difficult time arranging for that,:: he pointed out. ::Even if I let them, I think they'd break all their weapons trying to find a vulnerable point. I just hope they don't expect a particular type of behavior - defender spirits can be anywhere from saints to just better than what you're being defended against. Though they haven't made any moves to sacrifice somebody to me yet,:: he mused.

::So true,:: her chuckle was of someone who was well-familiar with the range. ::Here's hoping they stick to fruit, animal meat and attention. It makes things _so_ much easier when you don't have to explain sentient sacrifice to Prime. The mech just doesn't _get_ it.::

::I'm used to avoiding it, or at least redirecting it,:: he said easily. ::It was a waste of good fuel, when I worked for Soundwave, and it's upsetting to my superiors now. Easily channeled into a more productive direction. Going to be focusing on the local celebration for a while; wish me luck in keeping them from trying to actually feed me enough to support my frame.::

::Oh yeah,:: she laughed playfully. ::Have fun, Ravage,:: she added before signing off.

The village was quickly being decorated with flower blossoms and greens, the natives painting themselves and dressing themselves up. Fruit and edible plants were being gathered, while others were in several metal pots on fires.

So far, so good. None of the markers of a society into live sacrifice.

It made sense, really. They'd been working to summon a protector - they wouldn't want to go and kill one of the people they'd summoned him to protect. Not every culture followed that logic, but most he'd found did. It made this particular role simpler, in that respect; a sacrifice might be intended to cause the summoning, but generally not as thanks afterwards. Other roles, those were touchier, especially ones that a mech who looked like him were likely to fill.

Pol'mir approached him, painted brightly with lines and swirls in several colors derived from minerals and botanicals, and a couple animal products. He came within one of Ravage's body lengths and bowed deeply.

"The feast and celebration is prepared, Mygenwa."

"Thank you," he said, standing and

He guessed, judging what available spaces there were for something of his size and bulk, at least near the crowd, moving to enter the village proper, standing taller than most of their huts.


	8. And Along Comes Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tammy Whitestead finds herself on a military transport with a special ops crew that won't tell her where they are going or what, exactly, they'll meet when they get there.

This one remains on Livejournal. Just follow the link.

[Ravage's Maestro 08: And Along Comes Ratchet](https://tf-socket-fics.livejournal.com/46998.html)


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